Friday, October 30, 2009

Therapy

Gratitude.
The very thing I needed, to be paused in my semi-organised ramblings, in my disjointed explanations; scraps of reality mingled with terminology and an assortment of jargon I knew all too well.
I have studied well, I know my histories.
Honest stumblings, and I don't knows. Please just fix me, sitting alongside of I'm pretty sure, because, and then this happened.
Of course I've heard of the amigdala (I think mine is broken, I flee and I fight myself, and only for others).
I learned this, as some girls learn to weed a flower bed, or stitch a seam.
I am quiet, calm, clear spoken, oh so poised. And if I steel myself, I can meet your eyes.
At my mothers knee.
Look, look at me, I know the answers. I hardly need to be here, really.
She steps through the door, sure to be welcome.
Opens, the curtains. Smiles.
"Put away your knives drawer girl, we're going for a walk".
My mind writhes, the questions are becoming difficult,
blank,
I am blank.
And not ready.
I watch as she performs seemingly small acts of kindness, and knowing how much they cost her, I am proud. Proud to be her daughter.
Continue, don't pause too long, don't ramble now, don't.
Gold stars plastered across my fingers, tremor beneath their weight.
Might I have some to cover my arms?
The very thing I needed.
Uncertain,
I know my family history.
I am becoming uncertain.
But recent happenings have me confused.
I'm not crazy, not even a little, you know.
I couldn't feel my skull. My head had a hole in it, and it let in a draft.
I am in control.
There were people, so many people.
And they just
kept
I am poised.
coming,
walking out of the darkness,
and
I am not calm.
throwing themselves,
beneath the wheels..
To be stopped, gently, looked straight in the eyes,
steady blue, like mine.
Blue eyes have forgotten how to lie, I know.
And they were never very good at it in the first place.
"I just wanted to say, I think you're incredible. Absolutely wonderful".
The very thing.
My head is faulty, my heart fallen out the hole.
My body trembles, yet my breath comes still.
And I am a wonderful being, absolutely wonderful.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Synthesete.

You make me think of the colour purple.
I don't know why.
There is nothing in your face to suggest it, none of it in your gold-oranged eyes.
You have the eyes of a lioness, my love.
But right before I see your face in my mind, purple flashes.
Violet washed through with indigo.
That's all, I just thought I would tell you.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

I dreamed a dream. again.


I am so far from myself, that I can hardly see.
My eyes blur, and my head numbs, I change to thinking from my centre and knowing through my mouth.
They are the only parts that stay unmoving.
This room is the one that has always been here, I am sure.
Square with a bend through the middle. The lights vibrate across the ceiling, so loudly. I think they want new light bulbs.
The pattern in the couch is writhing, and grasping outwards, sickly brown tendrils.
"Don't go near it dear".
I am glad that I chose to sit in this chair. It is black and empty, nothing wriggles and if you ask it nicely it will let you stand. But the clamouring of the upholstery is giving me a stomachache. I need to leave.

I open my mouth and words saunter casually towards the faces.
"I think I will take a shower".
Yes, I got that right. That is the way it is done, yes
I feel proud for knowing, I am good at this.
Standing, and the floor hurtles upwards. It's ok, it's only teasing.
Like Mother says "don't react, don't react, they're only looking for a reaction, don't react and they'll go away". So I walk slowly, poised. You'd scarcely be able to tell that it caught me off balance.

I play the shower game, icy, hot, icy, hot, changing rapidly, burning and cooling.
Fill my mouth up and idly wonder what it would be like to drown.
Sink to the bottom with closed lids and lips, lean my head again the glass.
I am outside and it's raining, I close my hands against my ears, press gently and let go. It sounds like thunder.
Open my eyes to let out the tears, and red runs toward the drain, and oh god what have I done this time.
"Oh god", a soft cry to a deity I am unsure of.

And if I told you this, called it a dream,
would you love me still?

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

If this doesn't work, try speaking in lolcats...Oh hai Ceiling Cat, I can haz a happie naow? Srsly.. Kthnxbai


What's that?
You're sore, tired, and four times zones away from home, your darling girlfriend and eternal happiness?
No? That's just me? Oh...then why the long face, dollface?
Life gotcha down?

Try...Beth's erm..Tempory Remedy for all kinds of Misery.

A large mug of milk.
2 teaspoons of cocoa.
1-3 teaspoons of sugar.
A few squares of caramel chocolate.
Sprinkle of powdered ginger.
Smudge of wasabi.

Stir over a low heat, in an itty bitty pot, until it's all melty and frothy.
Pour into a giant mug emblazoned with kittens and hearts.
Serve alongside adorable love cake.

Guaranteed to replicate warm fuzzy feelings for at least 5 minutes.
No Refunds.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Anxiety Play.

Person A: Sir?
Person B: Yes?
Person A:You are under arrest.
Person B: No.
Person A: You are under arrest sir.
Person B: No.
Person A: I shall shoot sir.
Person B: No.
Person A: I shall shoot sir.
Person B: No.
Person A: I shall shoot sir.
Person B: No.
Person A: I hate you.
Person B: No.
Person A: I shall crucify you.
Person B: Not so.
Person A: I shall poison you.
Person B: Not so.
Person A: I shall murder you.
Person B: Not so.
Person A: Think of the winter.
Person B: Never.
Person A:I am going to kill you.
Person B: I said, never!
Person A: I will shoot.
Person B: You have already said that once.
Person A: Now come along.
Person B: You can't arrest me.
Person A: Why not?
Person B: You may take me into custody but no more.
Person A: Then I shall take you into custody.
Person B: By all means.
Allows himself to be taken into custody and lead away; stage grows dark, the audience feels duped and there are catcalls and whistles.
The chorus cries "Where's the author? Throw him out! Rubbish!".

~Kurt Schwitters.

When I was 14, I wrote this on my door in thick, black permanent marker.
My mother was not impressed.
But I loved it.

When I was 15, I wrote underneath on a postit.
" Dada is nihilistic,
It has no meaning,
no soul,
I may as well be the reincarnated soul of this movement,
I think I will self destruct.
And be born again, unbeknownst,
into a different shade of misery"

Dramatic much?
Also spellcheck is pretty sure unbeknownst isn't a word.